


heaven and hell were words to me

by nosecoffee



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brunch, Cuddling, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 3, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: Chloe had looked at him with sadness and veiled excitement and the kind of comfort he never expected from her after everything. Lucifer didn’t expect her to stay, much less take him back to her home, pour him a drink, kiss him, and take him to bed.





	heaven and hell were words to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamline/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It would be for this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631902) by [dreamline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamline/pseuds/dreamline). 



> Title from "Work Song" by Hozier
> 
> Following on from @dreamline's awesome fic "It would be for this", taking place after 3x24, which i highly recommend.
> 
> I still have yet to see all of S3, but I'm quite a bit in, and I already know how the season ends, so I'm not worried.

When he wakes up, she’s there. Chloe is there. She’s in his arms, curled into his chest, and she’s asleep. Her hand is presses to the centre of his back, between his shoulder blades, but her fingers are splayed as if she went searching for something that wasn't there. Like scars.

(She had looked horrified the first time she’d seen the scars, “ _Your_ dad _did this to you_?” And he had snapped so suddenly, gripping her wrist in a tighter grip than necessary, not wanting her to touch them. Now that they aren’t there, Lucifer almost wishes he had let her. At least he’d have that memory catalogued. Who knows how she’d react to his wings?)

Lucifer remembers everything from the night before, from killing Marcus to kissing her in the lounge room, even though she knows what he is, now. She knows, and she’s still here.

Which is a bloody fucking miracle, honestly. He feels as though he’s been run over by a thousand emotionally draining trucks and left as roadkill. Chloe makes him feel…less like roadkill. Chloe makes him feel okay, even though nothing is okay.

The TV on the other side of the wall, across the room, is softly playing some kind of cartoon, so Lucifer assumes the spawn is awake. He takes this all in, swallows, and settles back into Chloe’s soft sheets.

Unfortunately, this movement disturbs her, and she shuffles beside him, pressing closer, feet kicking, head knocking against the underside of his chin. His teeth click together, painfully. Lucifer feels calmly human in this moment. As if this was normal, waking up in bed with Chloe, her daughter on the couch in the next room, the soft morning light peaking through the curtains. It’s so domestic it’s almost sickening.

“Shit, are you okay?” Chloe asks, softly, looking up at him with bleary eyes. She doesn’t know everything, yet, but she knows that being around her makes him mortal. “Did I just kill you?”

Lucifer can't help but actually laugh at her worried face, and for a second she looks mildly offended. Then she starts laughing, softly, too. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m suddenly acting like you're fragile.” Chloe admits, chuckling. “If anything, you were safer before, when I didn’t know.”

“Now, now, detective-” He begins, playfully, but she’s sober in this moment.

“Chloe.” She corrects him, and that’s a drastic change. He’s called her Chloe before, even last night, but she’s never asked him to.

“Chloe.” Lucifer echoes. “You don’t have to worry.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “I’ll worry either way, Lucifer.” She informs him.

“Shouldn’t _I_ be worried about _you_?” He questions, and she’s so close he can smell her breath - it’s not pleasant, but it’s Chloe, and he’s suffered through worse for less.

“Should you?” She’s close enough to kiss, and the way she’s looking at him says she wants him to kiss her. In this room that is the only place in the universe right now, he wants to kiss her, and he wants nothing else.

Lucifer bites his lip, still focused on his plan to kiss her silly, replies, “After everything that happened yesterday-”

“Let’s not talk about yesterday, just yet.” Chloe tells him, shaking her head. She shuffles again, now almost completely on top of him. Lucifer drags the leg that he had dangling out over the edge of the bed back under the covers and uses it to nudge her all the way onto him.

“What do you want to talk about, then?” He lets his hands run down her sides and settle on her waist, index fingers toying with the waistband of her sleep shorts. “Or is it the talking you’re not interested in? If so, I have a fantastic activity in mind that includes my mouth in a different way.”

“One, _so_ not the time.” She says, obviously trying to look put out, but not doing a very good job of it. She actually looks a tad delighted, and Lucifer mentally applauds himself. “Two, not with my daughter just on the other side of the wall.”

“So,” Lucifer raises a suggestive eyebrow, “you’d be interested another time?”

“Count me in.” And she pauses. For a second, Lucifer feels normal, feels like someone who’d only ever lived this one life, chosen to live it with her. Chloe frowns, and the feeling leaves as the events of the day before reappear in the forefront of his mind. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, Chloe.” Lucifer says. He doesn’t move his hands; she hasn't asked him to, and at the moment it’s so grounding to feel her skin beneath his hands, hot and alive.

“Why?” Chloe asks, cocking her head, as if she hadn’t almost died the day before - as if neither of them had. As if everything hadn’t hit him simultaneously the night before, as if he hadn’t cried into her shoulder and begged her to stay, like a child. Like a person needing comfort, a person he _never_ was.

“Because of everything.” He explains, and feels her kiss his cheek, lightly. “Because of what I did and what I am and _everything_.”

Her mouth is right next to his ear, her cheek to his, her messy hair almost in his eye, but he doesn’t mind. “Do you think that’s affecting me at all right now?” She whispers. His hands clench around her hips.

~

Chloe gets up not long after that, and before she fully exits the room tells him, seriously, to get some more sleep. Then she shuts the door and Lucifer is left alone in the only room in the universe.

The sheets smell like her perfume. The pillow smells like her shampoo. He can smell it on himself, too. She’s everywhere around him, and when he breathes in through his nose it slows his heartbeat. Lucifer doesn’t think she quite knows her affect on him, what she can make him do, what she makes him, really.

He can hear her talking, on the other side of the wall, and then the higher timbre of Trixie’s voice. Lucifer hears his name through the wall, and turns over in the bed, into the space which had been caught between their two bodies when they'd curled up together. It’s a soft shock of cool after the calm warmth he was lying in, previously.

When Chloe had led him into her bedroom, Lucifer had been too out of it to think anything lewd. He had just let her tug him by his arm into the sparsely decorated room, let her pull his jacket and shoes off. She kissed him, softly, almost as if promising to be back, when she went to lay them out in the lounge room. And when she came back she dressed herself in her pyjamas.

Lucifer stripped himself down to his boxers, but there was no joke on his tongue when he turned to look at her. She had looked at him like there were so many things she wanted to say. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it all before, but that was before. It was almost like she was remapping everything, committing it to a new folder in her memory, one not tainted by his general jackassery.

Chloe had looked at him with sadness and veiled excitement and the kind of comfort he never expected from her after everything. Lucifer didn’t expect her to stay, much less take him back to her home, pour him a drink, kiss him, and take him to bed.

When they had laid down beside each other, they hadn’t been touching, as if somewhere between letting go of each other to crawl under the covers and now they’d suddenly remembered their shame. They were staring at the ceiling breathing erratically, waiting for sleep or the other to make the first move. Waiting for the exhale that signalled the OK.

First it was the movement of her hand across the top of the quilt. It covered his and clenched around it, almost protective, almost possessive, as if she was trying to keep him from running, keep him there, as if he hadn’t fucked up so many times, enough times to drive her away. As if he wasn’t the most massive mess of grudges and ego and regret.

Lucifer breathed out shakily, trying to give her the OK she was so obviously waiting for, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved what she was waiting to give him. Chloe tugged on his hand and Lucifer let himself roll onto his side, looking deep into her eyes. When had she turned to him. How long had she been waiting for him? How long had he been disappointing her?

Chloe pressed their linked hands to the centre of his chest and shuffled into him, cupping the back of his head as she moved closer. And she was there for the rest of the night, just breathing, breathing him in, her nose to the top of his head, in his hair, holding him there in such a way that he could pull away if he wanted to. It was a protective grip. It was a comforting grip.

Lucifer wouldn’t pull away even if it meant he’d die if he didn’t. It’s because Chloe feels more like home than anything ever has, and Lucifer doesn’t even know if she knows that.

He’s alone, now, and while he still feels protected, a phantom gripping him, her scent around him, her voice only slightly muffled by the closed door, there's an awful silence and invasion on the moment that forces him back into the memory of the day before. Of Marcus, and shielding Chloe, and her horrified face.

Of everything he did to save her, to end it, everything he did. It's painful. Lucifer misses her heartbeat under his hand.

He turns his face into the pillow and exhales deeply. They're going to fix it, it's not the end. Chloe doesn't hate him, she isn't scared of him, maybe she even loves him. The only way to know for sure is to continue on. He’s never been unsure of anything before.

Lucifer closes his eyes and tries to sleep more.

~

He wakes again to the bedroom door shutting, softly, and the dip of the mattress beneath Chloe. It’s a bit brighter in the room, room, so he assumes he’s been asleep for a while.

Lucifer turns onto his back and blinks up at her. She looks unsure.

“What time is it?” Is the first thing out of his mouth. It’s not what he wants to say, but that doesn’t matter.

“Nearly two.” Chloe murmurs in return, and passes him a glass of water. There’s a trickle of water running down the outside of the cup, and its cool when his palm curls around it. “Trixie’s desperate to see you.”

Lucifer sits up and downs most of the water in one gulp. He didn’t realise he was that thirsty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh.” He says, in response.

Chloe rolls her eyes, but there’s a seriousness in them, as if at any moment he’ll hit the brakes and she won’t ask any questions. “Don’t act like I’m _torturing_ you.” She drawls in the kind of voice she uses when Trixie’s trying her luck. 

“No, that would be much more pleasant, I assure you.” Lucifer informs her, jokingly, and finishes his water, placing the glass on the only clear space on her bedside table. The trickle of water hits the top of the bedside table and curls around the bottom of the glass.

“You know Trixie loves you.” Chloe says, and bites her lip, glancing at the bedroom door. The TV is still playing on the other side of the wall, and Lucifer hears cartoon sound effects. “Would it be so hard to humour her, for a bit?”

Lucifer peels back the covers and watches Chloe avert her eyes. He’s not sure if she does this to give him privacy (after last night, he’s not sure there’s anything about him she doesn’t know) or if she’s afraid she won’t be able to look away if she looks in the first place. “I suppose she isn’t the worst.” He concedes and Chloe chokes on a laugh.

“She’ll be delighted to hear that.” She tells him and gets to her feet. Lucifer immediately feels the absence of heat beside him. Chloe makes her way across the room and stops when she reaches the door. “Are you hungry? I’m making brunch.”

Lucifer nods in lieu of a verbal answer, and goes about trying to find the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Chloe nods back and shuts the door behind her as she leaves him to dress. There are scuff marks on the knees of his dress pants, and multitudes of bullet holes in his shirt, but he supposes it’s better than borrowing something from Chloe’s wardrobe. And he knows the spawn won’t want to see him in just underwear.

He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows in an effort to appear more casual, and exits into the lounge room. He is immediately grabbed around the waist and forced backwards a few steps as Trixie launches herself at him. Lucifer holds his arms up so that he’s not touching her but then he sees the way shes looking up at him, with big sympathetic eyes. And he guesses either Chloe told her or maybe she’s really just smart enough to know that he’s still sorting his feelings out.

Chloe scolds Trixie from the kitchen, but Lucifer frowns to himself and pats her on the back. Trixie beams, and pulls away, bounding over to the couch so she can continue watching whatever cartoon she’s been watching since the early hours of the morning.

Chloe looks exasperated when he wanders over to the kitchen, but she smiles at him when he stops on the other side of the island bench. “Sorry about that. I told her not to tackle you.”

She’s making that egg-bread thing that her dad used to make. It smells really good. Maybe he’s just really hungry, maybe Chloe’s just a really good cook. “It’s fine,” Lucifer replies, waving the apology away. “I’m in her domain. I expect nothing less.”

Chloe laughs, at that, and serves one of the egg things onto a plate. She pushes the plate towards him, and Lucifer pulls out one of the bar stools, stored under the edge of the island bench, seating himself on it. He watches her make two more, concentration ingrained in her expression. It’s obviously important to her that she gets it right. At some point between the next two egg things Trixie climbs up onto the bar stool beside him, and digs into her plate.

It all feels very calm, Trixie’s cartoon playing in the background, Chloe humming as she cooks, and the gentle clink of cutlery against plates. Lucifer’s so entranced he almost forgets to eat.

He doesn’t think he’d rather be anywhere else. He doesn’t care that there’s so much to clean up, so many excuses and apologies to make, so many wounds to heal. But, right now, eating breakfast with the woman he loves and her daughter, he feels safe and at home and without fault.

Lucifer starts to heal in that moment, when Chloe smiles at him through a mouthful of food and Trixie goes on about something that happened at school. He heals.

  


**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please consider leaving me a comment and a kudos, as both are very much appreciated. Hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee. Once again, thanks for reading.


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